


Hieroglyphs

by nightingalesang



Category: Whyborne and Griffin - Jordan L. Hawk
Genre: Christine is a BAMF, Christine is a good friend, Embarrassment, Erotic Poetry, Established Relationship, Griffin is a tease, Griffin is confused, Humor, M/M, Poetry reading, Whyborne is shy, embarrassed Whyborne, in hieroglyphs, until he isn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 13:04:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18660994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightingalesang/pseuds/nightingalesang
Summary: This ficlet was inspired by a post in Jordan's Facebook group and the comments on it. It was about a pick up line in hieroglyphs and it just led to this because what if Whyborne could actually express himself better in a foreign tongue? And what if he needed a friendly kick to be able to translate his dirty talk to English for Griffin? Enjoy, I hope :)





	Hieroglyphs

We moved to my office to discuss the matter at hand. The small room was in chaos as always, papers covering every available surface. I made a place for Griffin and Christine to sit by relocating the piles of books from both of the chairs but Christine was too restless to sit down. She paced the length of the office, absentmindedly picking things up and putting them back, making me more nervous in turn.

Griffin sat comfortably in the visitor’s chair, stretching his legs and crossing them at the ankles. He locked his eyes with mine and my breath hitched at how handsome he was. He still had this effect on me, even though we had been together for some time.

We launched into discussion and I forgot about Christine and her fidgeting until I heard her loud gasp. I raised my eyes only to find her clutching a few sheets of paper in one hand, the other hand clasped over her mouth. She was blushing and giggling and I don’t think I have ever seen her doing so.

I was confused for a moment but then I realized what exactly she picked from my desk. _Oh no!_ What was I thinking, keeping _this_  in plain sight with her around?

“Christine?” Griffin enquired, surprised by her reaction.

“Give it here!” I lunged at her but she evaded me and danced away. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed and covered her mouth again. I felt the heat of embarrassment rising to my cheeks.

“Christine!”

“You know, Whyborne, my command of hieroglyphics is not as good as I would like but I can understand this quite well,” she chuckled and then she had the audacity to wink at me.

“Christine, be reasonable and give it to me,” I said helplessly, “I don’t want to accidentally hurt you.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t,” she snickered at my empty threat and waved me off. I growled and moved towards her.

Griffin stared at both of us, bewildered. “What got into you two? What is this?” he pointed at the papers.

“It’s nothing!” I exclaimed but Christine leaned over to Griffin and mock-whispered into his ear: “Trust me, Griffin, you really _do_ want to know.”

She tossed the sheets to me and pointed a finger at my chest. “You are going to tell him, tonight, and if you don’t, I will. And you don’t want that ruined by my poor translation skills, do you?”

I swallowed audibly, certain that my face couldn’t get any redder.

“I wish you an interesting evening, gentlemen,” she smirked and sautered away.

“Ival? What was that about?” Griffin asked carefully.

I covered my face with both hands and groaned. I wished the floor swallowed me then and there.

“Tonight. Not now, please…”

“If you wish. But are you alright?” Griffin stood up, put his hands around me and kissed the crown of my head as I cradled it in my hands.

“Yes. Can you leave me alone, please, Griffin?”

When he finally left, I collapsed to my chair. Oh my… Curse Christine and her interfering nature! I knew exactly what she was up to and I could see her good intentions behind this but sometimes she had a subtlety of a herd of bulls. Well, I had a few hours before I died from sheer embarrassment. I might as well do some work.

*

I evaded Griffin’s enquiring looks during the dinner but then I decided to bite the bullet.

“Come to the bed with me,” I gathered the papers and took his hand into mine.

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment and followed me up the stairs. When we were both comfortable, I took a deep breath.

“You see, those aren’t translations,” I pointed at the hieroglyphs.

“No?”

“No. I wrote them. They are… er… poems.” I was grateful for the dim light, which at least partly covered my blushing.

“Poems? About what?” Griffin asked, baffled.

“Uhm… you.”

“Me?!”

“Yes. Sometimes us. It’s a very specific.. errr… kind of poem.”

Griffin eyes sparkled as it dawned on him and he grinned. “You mean, erotic poetry?”

“Yes,” I confirmed, glad he said it for me.

“Oh! And now you are going to read them to me.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “If you wish…”

“Of course I wish! It’s only fair I get to hear them if Christine read them already,” he didn’t seem bothered by that fact at all.

“Would you be so kind as to not mention this for some time? I haven’t recovered from that yet.”

“Of course,” he said, making himself even more comfortable and gesturing to me that he is ready to hear everything.

It was really weird to read aloud the very things I thought would stay only between me and the paper. I had found out some time ago that I express myself much more easily and explicitly in a foreign language, the more obscure the better. Especially the words from more private area of our life together which I had a problem to voice aloud even though I hadn’t a slightest problem to actually _do_ those things.

I began to read, hesitating quite often, trying to find the best equivalent in English. Griffin’s eyes were trained on me and I noticed they were getting darker and darker. Soon, my reading was interrupted not by my inability to find the right expression but Griffin’s enthusiasm to illustrate the verses with practical examples.

The ratio of poetry and other activities soon reversed, so we got only through the first half of the poems. Even that meant more interruptions that I thought physically possible.

Griffin lied sprawled on the bed, panting. I wasn’t in better state myself.

“That was…” he breathed out, “incredible.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, eloquently.

Griffin took me into his arms and hugged me tightly.

“You should not be embarrassed, my love. Nobody has done anything like that for me before,” he whispered into my ear.

“Truly?”

“Truly. I think it’s safe to say that nobody has ever waxed poetry about my ass in hieroglyphs,” he chuckled.

“You are insufferable,” I complained.

“Mmm… It seems to me you don’t mind suffering from me,” I felt his smile against my neck.

“Indeed.”

*

  
Of course the first visitor in my office the following morning was Christine.

  
“I trust yesterday was to your liking?” She smirked at me in the doorway when she saw the dark circles under my eyes. I picked up the paperweight and indicated throwing it at her. She ducked her head and disappeared behind the door, chuckling.

“Christine?”

“Yes?”

“Er... thank you,” I blushed.

Her smug smile said it all.


End file.
